Tick, Tock

There is a part of my heart that broke today, when I realized how a typical day in the Stillie household has changed over the years. The biggest change I'm trying to grapple with - and change about myself - is that writing used to be a very large part of my daily life. Now...not so much, and not by choice.

I was born to be a writer, even if I was never destined to be great. Sure, I'd love to get published, but I have to write something worthy of publication first. I'm just not there yet. And, at this rate, it might be quite some time before I am, because of the drastic way my life has changed.

Today, by the time I get my email checked, The Boy walks in the door. He makes snide comments about my amount of Internet usage which, honestly, isn't even that much. The truth of the matter is that, at this point, I feel as if The Boy is stifling me more than he is complementing me. There are so many things that I can't do because he pitches a fit or refuses to accompany me that I'm a different person. It just so happens that writing is one of those things that The Boy impacts.

If I write downstairs on my laptop, he's constantly looking over my shoulder and reading what I'm doing. He has no respect for my privacy and it's annoying. Even if I'm just checking my email or surfing, he's always looking. I shouldn't have to keep writing everything in Word and copying and pasting if I want to post it into a web application just because he's nosy - but I don't want him to know all of my Secret Internet Sites!

If I go upstairs into the loft to write on my desktop, he'll come upstairs every so often to see what I'm doing, or he'll try to read my screen from downstairs or he'll keep asking me what I'm doing. I'm not sure he gets the whole concept of leaving someone alone when they're trying to be creative with words.

This isn't a new problem. My ex-husband was the same way. He just couldn't stand it if I was doing something I wanted to do - for myself. I don't know if he wanted to be part of it, if he wanted to foil it...I have no idea what it was, but he attempted to interject himself into everything I tried to do for myself. The Boy is similar.

Part of me feels guilty, because I do require so much personal time. Especially when I've become less enchanted with the man in my life and I began spending more time alone. That's what has now happened with The Boy.

So, besides all the same bullshit going on at work, the on-again/off-again texts and calls from Scott (in which i am not really participating!), and the financial problems I think I may have licked, I have not been in the best mental state. Not that I really ever am, but still. When I get depressed, or stressed out, or when things are going badly, I prefer to spend a little more time alone. And I'm not getting it. Which just annoys me.

And then, after the eavesdropping, the staring over the shoulder, I still have to walk the dogs, grade papers, tend to all the pets, do something about dinner, run errands, and get ready for the next day. I can't imagine having a kid. Seriously. Women who manage to work, write, and successfully raise a kid...it's crazy.

I feel my life is ticking away and I am not getting enough time to create. Not enough time to build, express, or make. That feeling of running out of time...it sucks.

Speaking of which. I took off work today to go to the dentist. I know...took off a whole day for the dentist, but they had no afternoon appointments and I couldn't see going in for a half day, taking off at 11, not having time to come home and let out the dogs and then sitting down in the chair at noon and having no idea when I'd get back home.

Since I'm sure I won't be able to eat again until four or five tonight, and all I've had was cereal (because i somehow screwed up toast and there is nothing else to eat here), I need to find sustenance.

I hadn't forgotten this place. In fact, I've been taking notes about certain things I want to share on here. When I get the time. My next move is to figure out a way to plan writing into my day, kind of like work, commuting, dinner, and bedtime. Maybe not blogging every day, but writing every day. I'll let y'all know...